


Torture Sex with Yata and Fushimi

by etherealApostate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Bloodplay, EXPLICIT GORE., GTFO IF UR UNDERAGE, Gore, Implied Necrophilia, Knifeplay, LITERAL TORTURE PORN., M/M, Multi, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Snuff, THIS IS GORE SEX., Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9644933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealApostate/pseuds/etherealApostate
Summary: I wrote this while high on Raid. The pesticide. Please keep that in mind.You have been hired to assassinate Anna Kushina. Your attempt failed. You are captured and tortured by Yata and Fushimi. You make the best of a bad situation.





	

You feel blood dribble down your chin. Its warmth mixes with the dizzy throbbing in your skull, and you find yourself unable to to concentrate on anything other than the inexorable stream of liquid tricking out of your mouth, over your lips, down your face.

Someone’s voice snaps you back to reality.

“I’m only going to tell you once.” Your eyes blink open as you recognize the voice first (that level, yet songlike voice), then the face that matches it, which is very, very close to your own. Right. _That_ guy.

“Tell us who gave you the orders to kill Anna Kushina.” You become aware of his hand on your neck as he squeezes slightly.

“If you tell the truth“-- He squeezes harder, and you feel a slight _pop_ as your trachea collapses—“We will  make this end much, _much_ more pleasantly for you. Understood?”

He releases. You find a numb strength inside yourself and you nod. Drool is now mixing with the blood that dribbles from your mouth and cools on your chest. Your eyes flit, half-lidded, to the movement before you; as if in a dream, you see the one who had been choking you step back, and you see the shorter figure move in closer, and you hear something swinging through the air—

\--You are knocked out cold.

 

You come to, and you're on your side. You move your head, and something about it affects your shoulders oddly – oh. You find your arms bound. You try to move them. It feels like duct tape.

You open your eyes. The room that greets you looks like a basement, maybe? It's all concrete, with one door and no windows, and you hear something dripping far off.

The guy, the one with the glasses, is sitting at the wall across from you, absorbed in a holo-top setup, typing away at something. You can’t quite make out the graphics.

Your throat is burning and sticky from dehydration, but you don’t say anything. You decide you want a few minutes to get your bearings, even though it was so tempting to try to stretch out the stiffness in your muscles. Your hips and shoulders ache from being on the hard floor. How long have you been there?

You try to remember…. Oh. Yeah. The assassination mission, the failed one.

They kidnapped you…. The glasses guy, and another one, who’d had a hat on. They wanted to know why.

You swallow with difficulty. You realize you're fucked.

 

Footsteps in the hall ring you from your introspection, and the rusty green door on the opposite wall is thrown open. It hit its adjacent wall with a bang; a figure walks in from a dark hallway to the bright fluorescence of the basement room.

Hat guy. He's carrying a steel pole, weighted at both ends. Strands of ruddy-chestnut hair pool gently around his face from beneath the blue cap. Your heart freezes as his hazel eyes lock with yours. He tilts his head, face splitting into a small grin, as he realizes you are awake.

“Saru!” Hat guy barks. Glasses guy looks up from his work, curious for a second, and then his eyes settle on you. “How long has he been awake?”

Glasses guy –Saru-- shrugs. “Not my problem.” His mouth twitches. “After all. Needs all the rest he can get, right?”

Hat guy’s smirk widens, and he drops his pole. You wince as it clatters against the concrete. The sound seems far too sharp for the musty wetness of the room. “Let’s get started, babe.”

Saru makes a small _tsk_ sound, but dismisses his holotop and rises slowly to his feet. Hat guy cracks his neck and strides out of your range of vision. You hear the scrape of curtain rings on a tension rod behind you, and struggle to lift your head –

Saru is beside you before you know it, you hadn’t even heard him. He cradles your head in one arm as he kneels down, and as you stare into his dark eyes he reaches into his black, hooded jacked and pulls out a dagger. Something electric is triggered in your veins, and the most frightening thing is that it wasn’t quite fear.

“Ready, Misaki?” Saru calls, looking past you to where his companion (Misaki, you supposed?) stood.

“Eh, yeah,” comes the casual response.

Saru’s eyes meet yours again. He angles your head slightly, and presses down on your sore lower lip with the flat of the blade. Its tip is almost brushing your teeth.

“Don’t be a pervert!” Misaki sounds impatient. “Get him over here!”

You think you saw Saru’s eyelids lower into a look of laconic distaste, but before you could really tell he had swept you up into a fireman’s carry, and your head is swimming with blood as the ground sways not far from your face. He carries you, and the head rush is still disorienting you as he dumps you into Misaki’s arms. Brain addled, you feel almost bereft at the absence of his wiry-strong grip, but now Misaki is swaying a little to compensate for your weight, and Saru is bending down as your vision returns. His hand traces down the outside of your torso, then leg (you flinch in surprise as his thumb hooks, maybe accidentally, on the edge of your jeans for a fractional second), and comes to rest on your bound ankles. There is a pressure on the tape, and then it is gone; your legs hang free.

Misaki begins to return more of your weight to your own feet, and you find yourself able to stand. You glance sideways to the door, wondering if you can make a break for it – but suddenly Misaki’s arm is around your neck, elbow squeezing your windpipe, and Saru’s fist is in your hair, pulling cruelly – you close your eyes in submission, and a chill runs down your spine when you feel Misaki’s hot breath on your ear.

“Spread your legs,” he says. Your breath catches, and it’s not because of the arm at your throat. But you obey, spreading your feet to stand maybe a foot apart.

Not far enough, evidently; Misaki growls in frustration, and worms one knee between your legs to kick them sideways. You maintain your balance with only a little difficulty. You’re more worried about the heat of his thigh against your ass right now – but worry is soon gone, along with Misaki’s thigh, and replaced as Saru kneels again and snaps something around your right ankle, then your left.

You look down and quickly realize that your feet are cuffed to short chains anchored in the concrete. You’re a good four feet from the wall, nothing to lean on, you realize, as Saru severs the tape binding your hands and jerks down two chains on ceiling pulleys to likewise bind them.

Misaki is no longer behind you, you realize; then you feel a sudden strain on your arms, and hear a grinding sound from the corner just behind you – you turn your head frantically as the thick, unstretched muscle in your arms begins to tear just slightly. Misaki has just finished pulling a crank, and you are now suspended on the balls of your feet. You feel a bit of sweat trickle into your eye, and begin blinking furiously. It stings like hell, and part of you wants to cry anyway, but you can’t. You just… you can’t.

You find yourself breathing a little too fast as someone behind you – Saru? – begins cutting off your shirt at a leisurely pace.

“Now,” Misaki says, his voice bright and loud, “You’re going to tell us who sent you to kill Anna. This can be relatively painless for you, if you play nice.” He cracks the knuckles in his hand now, and the tiny barrage of _pop_ s echoes a bit. “Otherwise, you will suffer amounts of pain you didn’t know could be possible.” He steps closer, right up in your face, and you smell sweat and warmth on him. His bright eyes narrow and take in your face slowly, deliberately; if you could you would shrink away from the sheer hatred you feel pulsing off him.

In a low voice, Misaki continues. “I will pull off your fingernails one by one. I will crack your teeth and drive the roots backwards out your jaw. And I’m _not even the one you should be scared of_.”

You hear an inhuman chuckle behind you. Your hairs raise, and as your shirt’s remnants are pulled from your body, the point of a knife traces up your back, digs in very slightly at the nape of your neck. You can feel your mouth trembling as you force out the words, “D-don’t know.”

“ _WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW!”_ Misaki screams, his fist in your hair and his forehead grinding into yours. You feel a weight shift as he pulls back his other arm, and you barely realize what he’s about to do before his fist slams into your stomach. You’re breathless for a second, and your mouth drops open instinctively, gasping at air,  the air that Misaki’s exhaling and inhaling perfectly well millimeters away. You feel a spreading warmth between your legs and you realize you’ve pissed yourself. Misaki looks down in disgust. He releases your hair, he spits in your face, and he steps away. He’s circling you now. Again you hear that inhuman laugh behind you, and suddenly Saru appears in your periphery, then steps directly in front of you. He’s not as close as Misaki was, but he’s close, very close.

You realize that the warmth in your crotch wasn’t all piss. A shudder of dread, and _something else_ , runs through you.

Saru’s a little taller than you are, and he sneers down, the knife in his hand tracing delicately over your collarbone. You suddenly realize how utterly exposed you are; the despair washes over you; you find yourself arching your back a little to press into the tip of the blade.

Saru raises one eyebrow. “Do you really not know?” His words are almost a whisper. You take in a ragged breath and shake your head. His eyes narrow.

“I don’t believe you.” He digs the knife in and pulls, and you squeak a little as the pressure rips down into your flesh. The sting seems to last forever, but it is only a second or so before he pulls back the knife. You see something sadistic, something intent, something almost erotic flash under his expression – and then his face is sheathed in disinterest. He slowly runs his knifeblade down your skin. Your eye catches Misaki, now at a stop just behind Saru, and his eyes bore into you with sheer loathing. The blade reaches your lower ribs, then the softness of your stomach, then the line of your hips – Saru looks back up at you, a small, bored smile on his face. You feel yourself hardening even further in his gaze.

“Misaki,” He says, not taking his eyes from you, “We’ve got ourselves a real little pervert here.”

Misaki laughs, and the room rings with bell-clear cruelty. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he spits. “You’ve finally found someone who shares your interests.” He comes to Saru’s side, lacing one arm around the other’s waist.

Saru tilts his head, still staring. “Our interests.” He slips the blade, flat against your lower stomach, down under your jeans. Its coldness rests under the length of your cock and you shudder in pain and sudden desire. Before you can think of what will happen next, Saru removes the knife and brings it up to your face. A stinging pain ignites your cheek, and you howl as the unrelenting steel moves _through_ you, severing the delicate mesh of nerves and muscle and blood veins that strings your face across your skull.

At last he withdraws it, and you are panting as wet warmth drips down your face and onto your shoulder. It hurts from your temple to maybe an inch from your lip; your flesh rebels at this separation of itself and you hear yourself moan a little.

“You can see the bone here, look….” Saru leans in, the tip of his knife deftly pulling back part of the cut over your cheekbone, and eliciting another open-breathed cry from you. He holds it there, disregarding your quivering pain.

Misaki leans in as well, nodding, his eyes hungry. “You’re always so precise, Saru….” Without warning, he grabs the Saru by the back of the head and pulls him in for a hard kiss. Saru lets his knife drop to his side, taking his time with his lover as you enjoy the slight respite.

When they pull apart, your breathing is almost normal.

“Fine,” you say. “Fine. If I tell you, what will you do for me?”

“Maybe we’ll let you go,” Misaki says. Saru simply lets his gaze drop to your crotch, his free hand still entwined in the other’s hair.

You shake your head weakly. “She’ll have me dead before I get ten feet out that door.” You lick your lips. “I think you know what I want.”

Misaki squints, his upper lip wrinkled in vague disgust, but Saru leans in, his nose almost touching yours.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “We can ruin you right here. Just give us the name.”

You smile, and your face burns. You whisper your master’s name, and the end is caught up in a kiss.

Saru’s lips are cold, and his tongue pushes your mouth open further, flicking over the undersides of your teeth, before he pulls back. Someone tugs at your pants from behind, and Misaki is suddenly pulling them down, then Saru is kneeling as well, cutting the cloth of jeans and boxers free and leaving them in a half-wet puddle beneath you. Your cock is free now, cold in the still air and jutting upwards, and you close your eyes.

Hands. Hands on your ass, your cock, your neck – and the point of a knife somewhere deep in your thigh. You scream. Your senses clear and Misaki’s breath is in your ear – now his teeth on your lobe, biting hard (you tilt your head towards the pain, trembling). Someone’s mouth is on your cock, it must be Saru’s, and now he is slowly taking your length all the way in, slowly pulling his head back and pulsing his tongue over the underside of you. The hand on your throat tightens and for the second time in two days, your trachea collapses. You gasp in vain and in time with the pulses of blood between your legs.

“See,” Misaki whispers in your ear, “I know how you feel here. Saru’s a dirty bitch. He loves getting on his knees for pretty boys…” Misaki lets up a little, and you pull in air until you are dizzy, but the threat of his hand around your throat is still there. He digs his teeth into the back of your shoulder and you grit your teeth, moaning, as the pain goes beyond bruising and you feel his lips slicken with your blood.

You tilt your head slightly downwards, and Saru’s eyes, dark and languid, meet yours. It’s too much, too much – you spy the shallow stab in the front meat of your thigh and let out a high whine as you see the blood trickling onto Saru’s hand as he grips your leg for support. So red, so beautiful, your very life is flowing out before you. The pain in your neck has moved, and the hand has moved; Misaki is working down your back now, leaving bruising bites along the taut web of muscle and skin (you can feel the dark blood blooming, still trapped, under that skin, and you yearn to set it free). You begin twitching, and you are letting out animal noises with every breath.

Saru pulls off your cock, staring up at you. The thin trail of saliva and precum linking your cockhead to his lips falls away as he brings his free hand from your thigh to his lips, and begins licking off the blood. You would be disappointed at him for not bringing you to completion, but he is simply so beautiful with your salty red staining his lips.

As he licks your blood deliberately, slowly, from one hand and idly squeezes the base of your cock with the other, you feel Misaki’s fingers rolling your testicles in their sacks, then slipping backwards, stroking at the perineum (you groan and stretch upwards, ignoring the accumulating pain of pressure in your feet), and coming to rest at your hole, teasing, slipping half in but never quite all the way.

“Having fun, Mi-sa-ki…?” Saru asks, popping a finger from his mouth. You hear an irritated growl behind you.

“Shut up, Saru,” Misaki says. You bite your lip as two fingers slip unbidden inside you. You wonder for a moment why they don’t burn more, and you realize they must be lubed with your blood. They scissor for a slow moment, then withdraw; you feel Misaki stand, pulling your hips back onto him.

“That should be enough, right?” He asks, his voice rough in your ear. “I’m sure you can take a little more pain tonight. You hear the pulling down of a zipper, and again feel Misaki’s breath on your neck.

“Are you gonna help me with this, or what?” Under the irritation in Misaki’s voice is a quickening of desire. You are confused, but the command isn’t for you; smiling slowly, Saru leans forward, between your straddled legs, and you feel Misaki drop to his knees. He spreads the cheeks of your ass and buries his face inside – the slick heat of his mouth send electric jolts through you as he pushes against your opening with his tongue. You feel him moaning into you, and you are sure Saru has started sucking him off, getting him wet. The blood on your face is starting to congeal at the edges. It wrinkles hard as your face contorts in pleasure that is half realized and half anticipatory.

Momentarily, you hear Saru’s voice beneath you: “Enough.” He pushes backwards, stands, straightens his jacket.

You blink, a little unnerved. Misaki rises again behind you.

“Don’t worry. He likes to watch.”

And then you feel Misaki’s cock pressing against your entrance, and you push back as best you can, and he slips inside – you won’t lie, it hurts. You let out a small cry as he pushes further, pushes finally balls deep, and slowly begins to pump inside you. The fabric of his shorts presses flat against your ass with every stroke. He reaches up one arm again and wraps it around your throat. Saru is still watching. The outline of his hard cock is clearly visible under his jeans, but he isn’t moving a muscle.

You decide to let it go, and surrender yourself to the growing feeling of pleasure and fullness in every stroke. Your head drops forward. Misaki speeds up, and you’re panting to his rhythm as he lets you breathe, chokes you; lets you breathe, chokes you; the nails of his free hand are digging into your hip. You vaguely hear him breathing hard through his teeth, making a sort of hissing sound. Your cock twitches – you’re close to cumming – when he pulls you back hard, burying himself inside the farthest yet, and finishes. You moan in frustration as he withdraws. You hear him laugh, and feel a hard slap on your ass.

“Your turn, Saru.”

Saru raises bored eyes to a spot behind your shoulder, where you presume Misaki stands. _Tsk_. “You couldn’t even make the poor bastard cum….”

Misaki lets out a derisive snort. “Like I wanted him to.” 

Saru shrugs. “Sure. Now cut him down. I want him to look at me while he dies.”

An anticipatory chill runs down your spine as Misaki lowers the pulley, and Saru unlocks the cuffs from your hands and feet. You almost collapse from the stress of holding your full weight with these wounds, and just when you’ve steadied yourself, Saru snaps his finger at you and points to the ground.

“On your back.”

You nod silently and lie down. The jagged floor grates and stings against the cuts to your back. Misaki’s cum is starting to trickle out of you. You turn your head to the right to see Misaki leaned against the wall, lazily jerking himself off – but then Saru is crouching over you, with a fist in your hair, forcing you to look at him.

“I’ll need lube,” he says. You open your mouth obediently. He shakes his head and takes his knife back out.

Shedding his jacket to leave only jeans and a white tee, Saru works with efficiency. Screams wrack your body from the sudden pain as the knife rips through the front of your other thigh and the shallow muscle on your chest in three long cuts.

Waiting for the blood to well, Saru brings the dripping blade to your lips.

“Taste it,” he commands. You comply. Your blood is only slightly cooling, salty, and the scent of copper fills your nose and mouth as you lovingly clean the blade. As he moves to withdraw it, you press your tongue against the edge and let it slice you open. Saru grins, showing too-sharp teeth, and leans in to kiss you with an open mouth. You follow suit, and he laps the blood straight from your tongue as he releases his cock from his jeans. Now he pulls back, and his eyes leave yours. You hear Misaki moaning slightly in the corner, wrapped in his own pleasure.

Saru runs his hand across each cut in turn, pooling the blood in his fingers, spreading it across his cock. Soon you are feeling just slightly light-headed, and he is lining up his dripping member with your still-loose hole. You pull your legs back to your shoulders. It takes all your fading concentration to do so, but he guides himself inside, and then leans forward to support your knees at his own shoulders.

God, he fills you so much – and once he’s in, he begins at a fast and hard pace. You know what he wants immediately. He wants to use you, use you entirely. Your jaw hangs slack and you whimper loudly from the pleasure of him inside you and the pain as every stroke grinds your open back wounds into the rough floor.

Your eyes flit around for a moment, nervous, overcome, but your gaze finds his and leeches onto it. He’s not making a sound, but his stomach rubs your cock with every thrust, and every thrust rips open your back a little more (you feel the warmth of your own blood beneath you), and every thrust he hits a spot deep inside you that has been aching for attention ever since Misaki left it just barely too soon – your cock again begins to twitch, and you’re there, you’re convulsing with need and fulfillment, your cum is spurting out hot and thick onto your chest. You’re moaning, completely uncontrolled.

You see Saru narrow his eyes. He stops, but doesn’t pull out.

“You know,” he says, “I’d rather fuck you dead.”

You feel a hot flash of pain at the side of your throat, and as the panic and dizziness overcome you, you feel him start to press inside you again. As the darkness clouds over your sight, you can just barely see his face, spattered with your blood….


End file.
